secret: the soundtrack of your life, part one

There are some songs that find me forever 17.

When I was 17 I was a beautiful mix of music, poetry, angst and idealism. I spent much of my time just being hard out in love with people who hard out did not love me back.

I was cocooned in the safety of parent's money and food on the table 3 times a day, clean sheets and clean clothes and care, lights on when I got home. I drew things and made things, sang things and wrote things and holy fuck, my little heart was so open, so joyous and so vulnerable. 

How ferociously I loved. How vigorously I scribbled and cut and pasted, how carefully I coded my poetry to hide the love it was bursting with. I marvel at my 17 year old self and her sheer bloodymindedness at being constantly rejected and loved and never really being aware.

I'm all too aware now. A heart can only stay open to all the horrors of the world for so long before it hardens over, just a little. I'd tell my 17 year old self to tell everyone how she felt, even though my 28 year old self finds that damn near impossible. 

I listen to '1979' by the Pumpkins and am putting the finishing touches to an end of school mixtape. Dragging my fingertips through the air with my arms out the window of someone's car adorned with freshly minted P plates (how did our parents ever trust us enough to let us go?). Embarking on my first real relationship with my first real boyfriend, not knowing what a struggle I'd put myself in for, just heady in love with somebody beautiful to deigned to love me back. That was enough, and I didn't know any better.

I listen to 'Nothingman' by Pearl Jam and I'm right back into the torn up pinstripe flares dragged on underneath my school uniform in a faux show of rebellion. Why don't I have any photos of this? We were punk in the way Smirnoff Ice is alcoholic, we were alternative in a mode of carefully constructed layers of tie-dye and nose piercings. I'm happy I've kept my nose pierced, a relic of my 16 year old self in one of her few moments of rebelling against parents who gave her every little thing she wanted except maybe being able to attend more parties.

When I was 17 I felt so damned invisible. I felt angry that a part of me wanted to get the best marks in the class, and another part of me wanted to burn the world down. How do you reconcile the two of those? How do you figure out who to be? I wanted to hurt people to be sure they cared, but I also wanted everyone to love me for always, to know all the secrets and be someone's everything. 

I'd never have picked all the things that would happen to me, all the loves I'd have had and all the times my heart would have broken by the time I was 28. 

And perhaps I hold it a little less loftily high than I used to, but love is still all I think about, one way or another. 

"Shakedown 1979, cool kids never have the time

On a live wire right up off the street

You and I should meet

Junebug skipping like a stone

With the headlights pointed at the dawn

We were sure we'd never see an end to it all

And I don't even care to shake these zipper blues

And we don't know

Just where our bones will rest

To dust I guess

Forgotten and absorbed into the earth below

Double cross the vacant and the bored

They're not sure just what we have in store

Morphine city slipping dues down to see

That we don't even care as restless as we are

We feel the pull in the land of a thousand guilts

And poured cement, lamented and assured

To the lights and towns below

Faster than the speed of sound

Faster than we thought we'd go, beneath the sound of hope

Justine never knew the rules,

Hung down with the freaks and the ghouls

No apologies ever need be made, I know you better than you fake it

To see that we don't even care to shake these zipper blues

And we don't know just where our bones will rest

To dust I guess

Forgotten and absorbed into the earth below

The street heats the urgency of now

As you see there's no one around."

1979, Smashing Pumpkins

30pictureschallenge: Day 3

this is winter time in whistler. it looks like it's christmas, but the magic of whistler is that it looks like this all through winter.

things freeze, things stop, things slow. at the same time, there is frenetic energy. the village is filled with visitors; it's a visitor's town.

when fresh snow falls, right down to the village, there's a nice time during the night before it's cleared away and salt laid to make safe paths for those unaccustomed to the white winter underfoot. before it's cleared away, it gives beneath your feet. it makes a sort of muffled crunch, a murmur released as you leave a footprint behind.

it's ankle deep. sometimes it's knee deep. these are the nights you quietly head for home; these nights promise nextmornings filled with pow turns and faces full of snow. your heart fills with the anticipation of it. you smile at strangers as you trudge by them, wading through the fresh snow to the bus stop, and home. you pull your hood up; you wrangle your toque into place under your hood. you check your pockets and pull on the mittens you have stowed there.

the more the snow falls, the wider and fuller your heart becomes. the flakes are big, floaty things; they drift slowly to the ground or they fall thick and fast. you're covered in them as you walk, you brush them out of your face and off your eyelashes. they're wet and cold, but you don't mind; on still snowy nights such things can easily be forgiven.

off the bus, you're making your careful way up a hill that is foiling any cars without winter tyres. you pick a path and patiently put one foot in front of the other, avoiding the slipperiness that comes with packed down snow.

once home, you shake yourself off and shed a wet outer layer; hang up a coat, stash your boots. you rub your hands together and blow into them as you stomp your way up the stairs, buoyant with the magic of the winter world you just traveled through to make it back. upstairs there are housemates, equally happy in their anticipation of what tomorrow will bring on the mountain.

a cup of tea, a brief chat, a plan made for the morning, then bed.

#30daychallenge Day 14 - your earliest memory

memory's a tricky one, isn't it? i have some memories of early on, not sure if they're My First Memories or any such thing. I think they only stick out because we were doing something out of the ordinary, but who's to say where they feature in terms of the common and familiar every day memory? i don't remember sitting up at the table eating breakfast with my family, but i also don't remember ever being surprised by it- so some of the everyday stuff has been absorbed before the point which i can remember.

and that itself makes me wonder, too- does it have to be something out of the ordinary to be a first memory? when something triggers my memory now, i wonder what values those memories hold, the ones that pop up unbidden.

and isn't it just funny how we can work for a memory, even struggle for one as someone else is asking us to remember, and yet others torture us by always being there?

i had been working on a piece earlier on the year, reflecting upon Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind, and how powerful memory is, even when we'd choose anything but remembering our broken hearts and our lost love. needless to say, it was a fairly melancholy piece; there are nice parts to it which i may revive or shed new light on, sometime, one day.

down to business: my first tangible memory is of the time when my mum and dad took us overseas. stu and i were around 2 and 4 respectively, but hugh wasn't around yet. how weird to think of a time before hugh was in the world... anyhow. our parents took us across the world on a sightseeing tour, barely any of which has stayed in my mind. of the sights, i have fleeting memories of stone castles, large bodies of water, owls at a bird enclosure. but the very first graspable thing i remember (that i know i'm not remembering from photos) is that we went to stay with a family in the UK - family of one of dad's old flames, no less - and mum had bought some small gifts for their kids. for matilda, my age, there was an animal-shaped soap (can't remember which animal; dolphin, or koala) which i coveted the heck out of. i wanted that soap for myself, but i never got it- matilda did.

that's it. that's my first memory. 

i wish it was something more special, especially seeing as we were, you know, travelling the world. but that's it- that's what i've got. 

someone help me out- anyone else have an unglamorous first memory? 

treasure: memoir: snowboarding as therapy

" I was twenty-three when I moved to Whistler in British Columbia, Canada. I moved on little more than a whim and a vague sense of the urgency to change what had become dangerously apathetic circumstances. My younger brothers had both spent time in that part of the world and encouraged me to check it out. I went there with plans for a six-month holiday. I stayed for three years. I have to say, it was the best thing I’ve ever done in my life. I learned to snowboard."

You can head over to lipmag to read the full piece here.

I really enjoyed getting my act together to write this piece, and hope to start work on a few more in coming months. If you guys have any feedback or suggestions on what I should write about, let me know however which way you wanna.

Thanks for reading.

update on July's challenge: week two, or, oldies but goodies

Having grown up on a steady diet of quality tunes (read my blog on mixtapes, or my blog on music) I was only too happy to go back and revisit some of the favourites this week. I lugged my clunky old laptop out to mum's last weekend to comandeer a whole bunch of her music, and now have a few gb of tuneage which I am still making my way through.

These are some soulful women, I must say - Joan Baez, Joan Armadtrading, Tracey Chapman, Joni Mitchell, the Eurythmics... It's actually perfect for the sort of mood I've been dipping in and out of this week. I have to say, there's something about these women that really resonates, and I've been doing a little thinking about it to figure out exactly what it is.

I never studied music in any form so I probably don't know the right wordses to give this idea some life, but I think it's something about the simplicity of the music and the honesty of the lyrics. Have a listen to "Love and Affection" by Joan Armatrading, or my particular favourite, Joni Mitchell's "All I Want". I listen to this song and think of sunny summer weekends when Mum would blast this album through the stereo while cooking up an storm in the kitchen for whoever was coming out for a dinner party.



I think it's one of my favourite almost-love songs, still. There are some truly beautiful voices out there in the world today, but Joni Mitchell has such an amazing range, which you can't miss from her songwriting style. Tavi at Rookie writes about her love of Joni- couldn't have said it better myself.

It's been nice to simplify for a week - I've gone for what I already know and grew up with, so there's that wonderful sense of reuniting with old friends. I'm very grateful that my mum listened to so many female musicians growing up; the strength of their voices and their honest songwriting have left a legacy for everyone that has followed.

I had a lovely trip down memory lane with Stu and Hugh at Christmas time last year - we were driving out to Grandma's place for Christmas Eve drinks and Hugh cranked Tracy Chapman's "Talkin' 'bout a Revolution". There is actually probably nothing I love more than going somewhere in a car with my little brothers, howling along to an old favourite, a shared experience of before, when we were little, and knowing all the words.

secret: top ten reasons to attend your upcoming highschool reunion

Recently, I've bumped into a few people around town who I know from highschool days. Each time, I bring up the reunion and sadly there is very little in the way of enthusiasm as a response.

So I thought I'd break it down into 10 simple reasons in the hope that a few more of us will show for what might potentially be an awesome night!

1. Sure, you've kept in touch with your friends from highschool, but what about everyone else? Aren't you curious to know who's become a movie star, a real estate mogul, a corporate high-flyer? There are people I barely knew in highschool who I'd be very interested to hear about.

2. See who got fat, who got fit, who had kids, who got married, who got together, who split up. This one is basic human nature; there's bound to be a few surprises. Find them out first-hand if you attend the reunion!

3. Victory. Did you get bullied in highschool? Firstly, take a minute to be glad we didn't have Facebook yet (I hear that shit's nasty as far as bullying goes), then think about how good it is going to feel to march in there as a successful adult and most likely have your childhood bully be perfectly civil and adult to you. 10 years is enough time for the assholes to grow up, learn their lesson (I believe in karma, most definitely) and probably hold down a polite conversation. It'll feel great! Personal development!

4. Check in on your random highschool crush. There's always one person you thought was cute who didn't move in your social circles. What if they got more attractive and are single and you're now just their type? We're having a reunion at a pub; social lubrication plus attraction plus novelty value may potentially equal love, marriage, and something to show off at the 20 year reunion.

5. People are still doing awesome things. At 27-28, some of us have settled down, but some people are still travelling, studying, partying and who knows what else. Maybe a conversation with that guy who sat next to you in rolecall will inspire you to visit Mongolia, South America, Scotland. Maybe it will reassure you that you haven't missed anything. Maybe it will help you feel less anxious about the fact you haven't actually got it figured out yet.

6. We're all in this together. Everyone I've spoken to about the reunion, whether attending or no, has expressed their doubts and nerves about the event. We all find the idea of hanging out with people who saw us at our daggiest, most clueless and puberty-fueled to be anxiety-inducing. We all find it a bit weird- there's no-one marching into this who thinks they're the boss of everything.

7. There will be alcohol. You don't have to face these people completely sober if you don't want to.

8. Maybe you'll actually make a new friend. Personally, I hope to make contact with a few folk currently living in town. I live here at the moment, and have gradually caught up with a few of the Class of 2003 who are also living in our hometown. Unless you make a habit of hanging out at the supermarket or going out every weekend (neither of which I can afford to do), it's hard to run into people you know. Best to get them all in a confined space and demand their friendship. Every person I have run into from the mystical past of highschool has been friendly, even though they weren't in my immediate circle of friends. We've all had our different adventures but it's nice to compare notes. I think, from the small sampling I've enjoyed, that we're all pretty cool, really.

9. You get to hang out with your friends. Even though I keep in touch with highschool friends through various social media and also sometimes via text message, they all live in other places and I don't get to see them that often. You're all spread between Brisbane, Sydney and Melbourne, and it would be nice if you came back to town for the weekend to catch up! I'm hoping to see these people outside of the organised events too, and not stand about in little groups of people who you know well and possibly also live or work with once we're at the pub. Still, it will be nice to know you're there as a safety net.

10. Who doesn't like parties? If thinking about who will be there and what they'll think of you is too much, just consider it as another night out at the pub. That's a whole lot of strangers; these people have braved their nerves too and want to have a good time. So they're friendly and approachable strangers, which are my personal favourite kind.

I hope I've been somewhat convincing - I was on the fence about this idea at first, but really, it just has so much potential, and don't forget the novelty value. These only come up once every ten years!

I really hope I get to see as many of you as possible there, I'm looking forward to meeting you all again as an adult, remembering that Facebook is not representative of a whole life, and sometimes it's good to hang out with humans. So I'll see you soon- make sure you say hello!

treasure: my granny, Patricia Taylor

One of my favourite bloggers, Pip from Meet me at Mike's, has suggested a blog-along about grandmothers today. You can read hers and be inspired maybe to write something of your own, as I am today.

I think often about my Granny, who it turns out has been a huge influence on many of us Taylor folk, one way or the other. The only thing I ever occasionally let myself feel sad about in relation to Granny is that I'd just love to sit down with her now, at 27, and have a good old chat about things. Now I understand a little more. Now I'm an adult. Now I've met more of the whole wide world, and consequently realised just how wonderful she was, not just as my Granny (for she was given instant 'wonderful' status ever since I can remember) but as a woman.

Of course, I never knew Granny as a mum, but from what I gather she managed 5 kids and a husband on a NSW sheep farm quite adequately, not to mention the governesses, the jackaroos, and the rest of the surrounding family. As a Granny, she was kind and strong, and somehow managed to make each of her 14 grandkids feel special to her. Until I was 10 or so, she lived just down the hill from us, so close that Mum was able to stand at the top of the hill and watch me toddle down to see me arrive safely in Granny's waiting arms. From there, she took me inside and I was fed shortbreads and hardbiscuits (a family recipe, an oat & golden syrup combination that are infamous), as well as allowed to help out with baking and making butter. I got sat on the edge of the kitchen bench while she went about this business, and was occasionally granted my very own little ball of new butter to put on toast, or eat then and there, delicious and creamy, popped straight into my little mouth.

It sounds a bit odd as a treat for a child, but I must say it was my absolute favourite thing. What I wonder about now is what her and I talked about, for I'm certain I would have chatted away happily with her for hours (genetic trait, the chatting- Granny was the best chatter I know) about all my secrets and thoughts. I imagine I may even have bored her with my chat, having since discovered that once kids figure out how to make themselves understood, they Do. Not. Shut. Up.

Growing past this rosy-cheeked child stage, I know I missed having Granny and Grandfather so close by when they moved into town. Our family moved into the homestead, and all the mystical places that had hidden secrets inside when Granny and Grandfather lived there were opened up and brought to light. Furniture was moved out and empty space left for our family to move on in. The 'good' lounge room stopped being a closed space in the dark, and Grandfather's dressing room stopped smelling of mystery and was instead painted blue, becoming a bedroom for my little brother Stuart.

Their new house in town became the place for Christmases and family get togethers, and while those were always special, it was the one-on-one times with Granny that I remember that house for. I cannot remember ever watching television there, instead we'd drink countless cups of tea and I'd read my book, or tell Granny about highschool, or whatever else I felt like chatting about. I can't remember ever trying out teenage rebellion on her; while I was a well-behaved girl, I had a truly awful temper with which I would constantly tear strips off my parents, but I'm pretty sure I never tried that out on Granny. One wouldn't.

As always with the passing of time and the gaining of maturity, on reflection I feel truly amazed by the legacy and impact Granny had upon me, and I don't doubt, all of the other Taylors I know. I think of her now as my conscience; when I act well, true to myself, when I help others or resist making an easy choice in favour of a better choice, I feel quietly proud of myself in the same way that I imagine Granny might. When I make a mistake, or a knowingly act in a way that I regret later, I shake my head, try not to beat myself up too much and instead think "Next time, I'll do better". That's what Granny has given me. I expect a lot of myself, which I know is a 'Taylor' trait with which we all have been blessed/cursed.

In the end, I only have a few tangible objects which have come from Granny. One is a green glass bead necklace, another is her copy of "Alice in Wonderland" from back when she was a Fraser instead of a Taylor, and the last, a happy discovery of just this month, is that the curtains that hang in my beloved van Queen Maude are made from scraps of sailboat fabric that Mum was given by Granny. So I have a little piece of something of hers to travel about with every single day. That is truly lovely.

Another treasure is a rhyme that has stayed with me for many many years, and I'm sure all the Taylors are reciting it in their heads while reading this. This Mabel Lucie Attwell poem hung on a towel rail in Granny's bathroom from since way before I can remember, and it will always remind me of having baths at her place, having my little body rubbed dry with a towel by Granny in her more limber days on her knees by the bathtub; it will remind me of the countless times I read it when visiting the toilet, moving the hip-friendly toilet seat out of the way. In a way I guess it is Granny, through and through. Tidying up after yourself and thinking of others, meeting your responsibilities head on.

Sending all my love, not only to Granny, but to all of us who love and miss her - Patricia Taylor, you're one heck of a lady to live up to, but all of us, we're doing our best (which I'm sure is all you'd really expect of us anyway).

treasure: oh, Canada!

so listen: I'm just going to come right out and say it.

there are days when it rains a lot and you have a headache and generally, it turns out, you're failing a little bit at life. 90% of the time, I love my life. the other 10% i think, damn I wish I'd stayed in Canada.

today is Canada Day, and I'm too far away to be able to get my hands on some Clamato juice for Caesars, or $10 worth of wings at Crystal, or wedges with the infamous Butt-Rub mayo from Dusty's. No Eggs Benny from Wildwood for me (no side of Banana Bread french toast either).

there's no green grass by picturesque lakes to sit on today, either; no snow-capped peaks to surround me; no fresh pow to shred; no bears to thrill/scare the bejeezhus out of me.

oh Canada, I miss your face. the shitty bits of Canada have fallen away to the sands of time, and all I really remember now are the friends, the good times, the all-consuming sense of possibility and non-sensical lack of responsibility and need for decisive behaviours. floating through 3 years of living out amongst the seasons, knucking down for the freezing cold or the hard-to-come-by sunburn, adapting to the weeks on end of rain, the overnight 30cm messing up the bus route but answering your prayers when you awoke to the sound of avi bombs exploding.

I miss the downtimes in the village between seasons, where you get to spend time getting to know the long-termers who have made their lives in Whistler and are not just passing through. I miss the peak season for the parties and the nightclub dancefloor (but no, not the lift lines or the queue out the door of lift coffee co. for a hot beverage).

I miss my friends; my Whistler family. I miss you all so much, and am lucky to have a few of you who followed me back to Armidale (because I got here first). I miss all the food we ate and the ski days we smashed and the apres we soaked up. happiness, plain and simple.

next year I'm going to visit Whistler, Canada, and I'm going to love it all over.

until then - Happy Canada Day.

treasure: that one time with mikaela and annica and a spoon.

This was this one time when Annica felt fit to threaten Fabel with a spoon- I think I was meant to put this threatening spoon photo on the internet.

I'm not sure why. This is really all I know.

but we went for breakfast, and then we went to live at Squamish, I think.

and I'm pretty sure we had an awesome time.

treasure: snowboarding

the mountain is open.

if the 1 & 1/2 of you that actually look in on this self-indulgent blog from time to time will recall, i am sort of into snowboarding. so this is rather good news for me...

whistler blackcomb were advertising for bloggers to write for them for the season, weekly, with the appealing offer of a free season pass. i considered this and actually got sort of excited about it, thinking about what i would write for my application to go with my resume. then i thought about it again and don't feel confident i could provide video footage and photos that would be up to par with the whole 'shiny squeaky clean' whistler blackcomb website. they must pay someone well to put together all the graphics and whatnot to make that site so tourist friendly.

i am generally a shit photographer, and right now only have my iphone and a little shitty camera to play around with.

it doesn't mean i don't love these mountains though, and so i thought i'd have a crack at the 250 words whistler blackcomb was asking for about 'your best day on the mountain', because i did originally start this blog for writing practice.

i actually think my best day of 09/10 season was the last day i spent on the mountain, which was late april/early may on blackcomb.

i was working at 1.45, the close shift at the supermarket i was at as a cashier for 6 months. so i had time to ride in the morning. miracle of all miracles, we had about 12cm of fresh juicy snow the night before. i was waiting for the lift at 9, when it opened. riding solo- i did a lot of that last season, firstly because i was learning to ride and i hate the idea of slowing people down, so i went up on my own most days, even if it was just for the hour before i started work to get a couple of runs in. once i could keep up i found that i still loved riding on my own, music playing in my ear, hitting the singles line at the lifts, sometimes just doing the same runs over and over again, totally stoked on it. just like this day in may. i went straight up aiming for jersey chair, to hit those few runs that i was loving at the time, when i realised i as perfectly capable of dropping right over the side- the powder was fresh, soft and forgiving and there were some trees to sneak into right over the other side of the groomer...

i think i probably hit that same run 5 or 6 times, with no lift lines, no falls, not a care in the world, until i saw that glacier chair was just about to open, with the tiniest line. as i came up to the very end of glacier chair, the last bits of cloud had cleared and it was officially a bluebird day- clear and beautiful skies with a view right down the valley.

there are very few moments in life where you truly believe you are untouchable. normally you're drunk at the time, and about to do something very stupid, which 9 times from 10 will end badly, probably with bruises. but this day was one of those days where i was so filled with the perfection i was experiencing that i felt weightless. everything went right- i picked good lines, i had the right tunes playing, and i had no falls. i felt like a superstar. i felt like someone should have been filming me. i did 3 runs from glacier, and coming out of the last run i went far right and took the trees that had been cleared out by the fires that went through in 09 summer, the first month i was in town.

fresh lines at midday on a bluebird day in may.

i didn't know at the time that it was my last day on the hill. i think if i did, it would have had to mean more, for me to do something significant like i did riding my last day on whistler, where i spent the day hurrying around trying to do all my favourite runs, hating the saddle in particular on the peak because it was damn icy. the way this last day fell though, it was just this sort of moment in time that made me the happiest i'd been for a really long time. since the innocent happiness of spending a whole day outside playing matchbox cars with my little brothers when i was about 10.

i'm in love with these mountains. the beautiful thing about this place is that everyone seems to have had this same connection i feel, and thus to have some kind of personal stake in the weather, the snow, all of it. i know if i hear people bitching about anything (especially at this point in the season where i'm still experiencing the heady rush of first love) to do with the mountain, i feel like shaking them... or kicking them in the shins hard enough to leave bruises.

not to get all enlightened on your asses, but life is really very simple. living here has taught me that, and i don't think i'll ever be the same.

treasure: music

not to be too dramatic or anything, but uh, without music i would die.

i'm so in love with my july playlist, i don't want to let it go. i'm sad it's august, and it's time for a new playlist. because i love love love it. anyway, i guess discovering new stuff is what keeps me happy. i want to make some more music of my own.

my all time best music experience lately was getting drunk with nicole and sitting on our balcony, singing harmonies for 'space they cannot touch' by kate miller heidke. the first time i ever saw her play that song was years and years ago, before she was on the radio. she played at woodford folk festival in 2003, and i was in love (foolishly as he turned out to be a crazy person) and blissfully happy in the ridiculous queensland tropical summer, sitting on a mountainside, sweating from everywhere, gloriously uncaring of every crappy thing in the world for the pure joy of sitting with my bare feet in the grass, with a teeny breeze, listening to a chick with an amazing voice.

the point of it all is, music listening is the one thing that i am always happy to do. whatever mood, wherever i am. it makes everything better, even if it makes you feel worse, for the enhancement of melancholy ... i like a little melancholy now and then (i hope i am spelling it right).

i am glad i can play guitar. i sang a song for nicole and she liked it. so now i feel brave. maybe soon i will record some things.

i like pleasure spiked with pain and music is my aeroplane

... is my aeroplane

treasure: matt

when i moved to canada i was shit-scared. of all the people i didn't know, of all the cars being on the wrong side of the road, of the fact that i had to learn to snowboard and i had no balance, hand-eye co-ordination, or general finesse (everyone please note that i have learned to snowboard and love it... duh...).

i only knew hugh, my little brother, who i had not lived with or spent any quality time with since he was 13. a bit of a gamble.

it needed to be done, the Leaving of Home- nothing at all was going right, and i only realised the extent of the general shite-ness of my past life about 3 months into my extended vacation. i did lose a boyfriend, and i am sorry about that, but i guess you can't fight fate, or something.

i've met many awesome people in whistler town, quickly making the discovery that while everyone is really friendly, not everyone wants to be your friend. so it helped to have my brother there with his surprisingly good taste in people, and so in this way i met matt.

matt is funny and has the exact same taste in music as me, so i like him on that basis alone. but there is so much more to it. matt and i were drunk text buddies for a while, in order to try and avoid texting our crushes and ruining things. to be honest i think i did better at this than he did.

not to get too deep or any such thing, but it is hard, when you are trying to figure out exactly who you want to be, when you've moved countries and no-one knows you, and you have free rein, to be the best version of yourself. it helps to know people like matt, who introduce you to such fun things as london fogs, and nightclubbing.

so i hope that one day soon i will be living with matt in revelstoke, and everything will be sweet. admittedly right now this is just a crazy dream. but i think we can make it happen.

here's a nice song for matt.